


Wisps of the Hunt

by SargentCorn



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Creampie, Hunting as foreplay for Hircine, Kink Negotiation, Knotting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Predator/Prey, Rough Sex, Semi-unrealistic sex, Slight humiliation kink, Spit As Lube, Werewolf on human sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:06:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SargentCorn/pseuds/SargentCorn
Summary: Hircine has been watching the werewolf Dragonborn for a while now. He wishes to propose something.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Hircine
Comments: 1
Kudos: 80





	Wisps of the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Alewyn has a stutter in general, so that's intentional.
> 
> I may do a second chapter for aftercare if I feel up to it, or people want to see it.

In the northern forests of Falkreath Hold, a hunter stalks his prey. His footsteps tread lightly on the forest floor while his senses extend to their furthest. The smell of venison fills his nose, and his stomach lets out a low grumble approving. Deer ahead of him, two or three at most, but he only needs one clean arrow through the head for his meal. But as he sneaks closer, a shudder rippled down his spine making him pause, and redirect his senses from the prey ahead of him.

Ears straining to hear with nostrils flared and eyes searching, the hunter can’t say why he feels as if he’s suddenly the hunted. He smells no fellow wolf nor the blood-soaked clothes of a vampire around him. Not even the whispering creaks of the skeletons in the Barrow nearby. Only the usual sounds of the forest filter through his body, but he can’t bring himself to relax even though he doesn’t know why.

Treading lightly, and slower than he had before, the hunter resumes his hunt for his dinner while keeping an ear out for what stalks him. He can only hope it was a predatory animal that had gotten a whiff of him instead and decided he wasn’t worth it. It had happened before, and there was no reason to doubt it happening again.

But as he knocks an arrow to the wood of his bow, the feeling resumes and he stills for several heartbeats before lowering his bow. Searching through the brush, he tries to find what hunts him as having this feeling twice is no coincidence. He still finds no answers between the trees and the secrets they hold as his gaze stretches throughout the forest.

He's quick to still the low growl that rumbles in his chest. His prey is still nearby and close enough to hear such thins. And even with that unknown that seems to haunt him, he dismisses it as a trick of the mind. Even the most experienced of hunters could fall into the natural traps of the forest, especially ones that seemed ethereal like Fakreath’s woods.

Reknocking the arrow to wood, he takes aim before letting loose. The arrow whistles through the air before piercing through the fur of one of the deers. Grinning at his clean kill, he stands and walks over to the fruits of his hunt. His arrow sticks through its neck, and he kneels beside the dead body. Pressing his hand to its face, he whispers a quick ‘thank you’ to Hircine for willing him a good hunt.

Taking his skinning knife, he moves to undress the deer only to hear the snap of a twig. Nostrils flaring, he stands up quickly eyes darting around only to see nothing around him. A low growl rumbles through the grove, and on instinct, he bares his teeth slightly looking for the offender with his nose and ears, but there’s no scent on the wind. There’s no still telltale sign of a fellow wolf in the area. Merely shadows and wisps of something not there.

Dread swirls in the lower region of his stomach. He can feel the presence of something nearby, yet nothing shows itself. Idly, he wonders if it’s a mage trying to scare him off from their territory, but he can’t see why. After all, it’s clear he’s hunting, and that’s not worth it to most mages to get worked up about.

Another twig snapping followed by the distant sound of a wolf finally makes the wolf in him speak. _Run,_ it tells him. _Run from the threat we can’t see. It’s more powerful than us. Run._

Hissing under his breath, the hunter finally decides to sprint from his kill. He mourns the loss of the meat, but he values his life as well. Only a fool would get into a battle with a foe they can’t see, and the hunter is no fool. 

Yet, the feeling of running like prey angers a deeper part of his wolf that he normally can ignore. It was his kill to have, not this thing that stalks him through the woods and the brush. But the sound of snapping jaws, and wolf-like pants despite the lack of smell keeps him running, and looking back.

His mistake is looking back, and not keeping his eyes on the horizon. The land trembles under him while seemingly rising from its place. It takes him several seconds to understand that he has tripped over a root, and is falling down a small hill. In his shock, he’s unable to right himself, and the world darkens.

A groan leaves him as consciousness returns to him. Sitting up, he rubs his head surprised to feel no pain nor wound from the fall he took. The hunter knows the wolf blood racing through his veins heals him quickly, but he’s not sure it’d heal him that quickly to close the scar from his head already. And the fact that he’s not in a healer’s home or anywhere else is a clue no one has found to speed along his ability.

He pulls his hand from his head staring at the lack of blood before getting to his feet. Slowly, he takes in the lusher than usual forest that blankets him. A hollow pit forms in his stomach with each inspection of the brush surrounding him. He’s woken up in the middle of nowhere with his wounds healed, yet there’s no sign of someone nearby that could heal him. The only sounds he hears are those of the forest.

And the sound of footsteps on dirt.

Spinning around, he finds himself face-to-face with a man clothed in fur boots, arm guards, and the lower half of fur armor. Strange markings cover his arms and little bits of his chest, but it’s not those which draw a gasp from the hunter. It’s the deer skull on his head accompanied by the way the other man stares into his soul, and the hunter knows.

“Lo-lord Hircine,” the hunter breathes dropping to his knees. “Ho-how may I serve you?” In the deeper parts of his body, the hunter feels fear churning around, and a ghost-like chuckle comes from the Lord of the Hunt. But despite that fear, he refuses to show fear in front of the Daedra that could end his life with a snap of his fingers.

“Arise, Great Hunter.” The hunter pulls himself up waiting for Hircine to speak. “I have been watching you, Alewyn Urshield, the Last Dragonborn, the savior of Skyrim, and more.” Slowly, Hircine started to circle him, and Alewyn felt as if he was on displayed and being weighted for something he didn’t quite understand yet. “In you is the power of Akatosh and the power of me. Dragon and wolf, and you control both so beautifully.”

“Thank you, my lo-lord,” he breathed surprised the Lord of the Hunt would compliment him. Another ghost-like chuckle rumbled from the Daedric Prince.

“And yet with this power, you remain docile and only hunt when you need too. You do not give in to baser desires as many of my werewolves would.” The deer head tilted to the side when Hircine stopped next to him. “A large task for someone who holds both the soul of a dragon and wolf. It’s impressive. A hunter in control of his beasts, using them when the hunt is on. I would reward you for such control, but,” One of Hicrine’s fingers tapped his chest, “I am not quite convinced on letting you being one of my Champions yet.”

Alewyn swallowed at the words. The idea of being one of Hircine’s Champions honored him, but he felt as if he didn’t deserve such a thing. He was merely a bastard child that happened to be Dragonborn and werewolf. There was nothing special after that to prompt such gifts, but he didn’t dare verbalize the thoughts in his head. The Lord of the Hunt was one of the last Daedra he wanted to piss off. So, he stayed silent and waiting for his lord to go on.

“So, I wish to propose something to you. You may refuse and it will not offend me. Not many are willing to do what I wish to ask of you, and I prefer them to be willing in this case.” Alewyn swallowed heavily listening to his lord.

“If I may ask, my lo-lord. Wh-what is it?” he dared to breathe fearing Hircine would not like the unprompted question. But as he asked, he swore he felt a predatory smile under the Deadra’s bone mask.

“I would hunt you as a werewolf, knot, and claim you as one of my Champions that way.” Shock rumbled through his system as he pondered the words said to him. It was an unusual request from a Daedric Lord, and he was thankful Hircine had spoken about not being offended if he refused. However, he couldn’t help but feel more curious at the idea, and why Hircine wished to hunt him so.

“My L-lord, if I may, wh-why like… wh-why this w-way?”

“You are special quarry due to your Dragon blood and Wolf blood. But not only that, you abilities of controlling your blood, and staying focused on the hunt for Alduin despite the raging war deep within you.” Hircine took a step forward gripping his chin lightly. “It is not only that. It is the display of a huntsmaster’s thought pattern as you track your prey for whatever job it is you’re doing. Always reacting quickly when your prey does something unexpected, always one step ahead, and always in control of the hunt even when your prey thinks it has bested you. It arouses me completely in many ways, Alewyn.”

“I see.” He ducked his head in response to praise once more. “Ho-how… how wo-would you have me, my Lord?” He feels another predatory grin in the air.

“I would have you on your hands and knees naked as the day you were born, and ready to receive me. No wolf form for you, only me.” Another tilt of the deer head. “From what I have seen, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done this.” Inhaling sharply, Alewyn had to swallow deeply at the words. Hircine was correct, of course. He had bottomed with other werewolves taking their knots inside him without entering his own form. 

The warm heavy body on top of him and the feeling of a thick, heavy knot and cock in him was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Nothing else was like it to him, and he could already himself growing aroused at the idea. Especially the fact that it would be Hircine hunting him down and taking him. He had always liked the idea of being hunted and mounted, but it was rare for werewolves to do such a thing when the threat of people finding and hunting them down was near.

Although, a part of him couldn’t help but be embarrassed at the fact that Hircine knew he enjoyed such things. Considering that happened with the privacy he and the other werewolves could afford was limited, he couldn’t see the Lord of the Hunt truly being interested in how his servants coupled with each other when the mood hit them. After all, he was usually more interested in how they hunted then anything else.

However, the Deadra were well-known for watching special mortals, and to Hircine, Alewyn was very special amongst his servants. If the other Deadra hadn't laid eyes on him, and Alewyn doubted they hadn't, they would seek to lure him from his Lord with promises of power. 

Hircine wasn't the most powerful of the Daedra, and any mortal wishing to have power beyond anyone's imagination, then he wouldn't be their first choice. But Alewyn wasn't them, and he didn't thirst for power he didn't want. He had what he wanted within the wolf blood coursing through his veins.

“And what wo-would you do if I man-manged to escape you, my Lo-lord?” Alewyn breathed the question on his mind, yet he doubted he would be able to outrun the Lord of the Hunt. A sentiment shared by his Lord with the dark chuckle that rasps through the air.

“That is a good question. Perhaps I may give you the abilities without the claiming.” Hircine stepped even closer to him, and their chests were almost touching. Hircine’s breath brushes his cheeks, and Alewyn shivers in response. “But I think we both know the chances of that are low, Alewyn.”

“Yes, they are, my Lo-lord,” he said staring up into the eye sockets. He can feel the words heavy on his tongue, almost ready to fall off. He’s teetering on the edge of wanting to and not wanting to. But how often can you say you’ve been bedded by the Lord of the Hunt.

“Well, Hunter?” Hircine asks.

“I accept, my Lo-lord,” Alewyn says seconds later, and he feels the air change. With a snap of his fingers, Hircine will Alewyn’s armor and weapons away leaving him bare to the Daedra and the Hunting Grounds. The Daedra drinks in the sight Alewyn’s naked body makes, and already he feels as if he’s being hunted. His lips part of their own accord and he has half a mind to sink to his knees before the Daedra and ask him to take here and damn the Hunt and its prizes. He doesn’t.

“Run, little wolf, for the Master of the Hunt chases you,” Hircine commands, and Alewyn obeys by sprinting off. He gets a short distance away before he hears howling in the woods behind him. A shiver of excitement and desire runs along his spine as he runs hoping to outrun his Lord just as much as he wants to sink to his knees.

Twigs snap under his feet while branches smack in his face. His nostrils flare from time to time searching for his lord’s scent. It’s always behind him, but never gaining nor losing its pace. He wonders if Hircine is giving him a chance to prove he can outrun the Lord of the Hunt, but as he races through the trees, he finds no extra speed.

He debates using Whirlwind Sprint as Hircine said nothing about Shouts, but that feels as he’s cheating. His body, mind, and heart aches to please the Daedra. To submit to the one that owns him, body and soul. Dragonborn or not, he’ll probably go to Hircine upon death. He’s forsaken the Aedra for Hircine.

A low roar to his right startles him, and he watches the werewolf jump above him to land in front of him. Skidding to a stop, he finds himself backing away as Hircine stalks forward. _Submit,_ his inner wolf pleads to him. _Submit to your lord!_ And Alewyn longs to do so, but he’s not sure if this has been much a hunt to please his lord.

However, the need to submit becomes overwhelming, and Alewyn drops to his knees and presents himself. “Forgive me, my lo-lord. I can no longer spr… run from you.” He keeps his upper body low, and his ass in the air with his legs spread for his hunter. “Do to… wi-with me wh-what pleases you, my lo-lord.”

A panting laugh answers him while footsteps indicate Hircine moving to his rear. Claws brush his skin lightly, and Alewyn sucks in a breath ready for whatever his lord gives him. Saliva hits his cheeks and drips down to his hole. It seems Hircine is pleased regardless of the low-quality hunt he has given him. He suspects it was merely foreplay for Hircine if he’s mounting regardless. He won’t complain.

Shivers run down his spine feeling Hircine lick between his ass cheeks. The feeling of a wider and flatter tongue against his hole produces a moan from deep within his chest. It’s been a while since he’s felt a wolf tongue on his skin, and each lick sends jolts of pleasure throughout him. Alewyn spreads his legs further to give his lord more access. His action is rewarded by his lord circling his hole with the tip of his tongue, and bringing another moan from Alewyn. Pleasure swirls deep in his stomach, and his cock is starting to harden quickly.

Hircine teases him with each lick, and it’s not long before Alewyn is squirming under him a begging mess. His cock is rock hard and dripping with precum while his fingers claw at the dirt under him. There’s a laugh-like sound from his lord, and Alewyn feels the tongue retreat making him thrust needly at the loss of contact. A clawed hand stills him in response.

“Prepare yourself, hunter. I will not have you hurt for submitting so well,” Hircine orders him, and he obeys placing his finger in his mouth. Slowly, he slides his finger into his hole moaning at the feeling of something entering it. A pleased purr rumbles from Hircine as Alewyn stretches himself out to receive his lord’s cock. Soft whines leave his throat with each push and pull of his finger.

Spit drops from his lord’s mouth running down his back and his cheeks. There’s something utterly humiliating about it, but it only heightens his pleasure than tempers it. He sticks another finger in and lets out a lewd moan that makes Hircine growl low and deep. “Good boy,” he rumbles pleased as Alewyn’s fingers penetrate his hole. His thighs shake at the praise, and a whispered ‘thank you’ leaves his mouth and a third finger enters him.

“Stop,” Hircine commands after several minutes of him prepping. Even though a whine leaves him at the loss of his fingers, Alewyn happily obeys. “Good boy. Now spread yourself.” His hands quickly move to spread his cheeks apart, and he feels excitement bound along his skin like lighting. His lord is ready to mount, knot and claim Alewyn, a fact has his body feel as if it’s going to explode.

The fleshy tip of his lord’s cock rubs between his cheeks, and he whines loudly. He’s eager to receive Hircine’s cock and knot. “Please, my lo-lord,” he begged forgoing all common sense, too needy for the cock he’s been promised. He should wait for Hircine to give him his cock when he pleases, and not beg, but he desires the Daedric Prince’s cock too much to completely care. Under the Prince’s eyes, he’s become a bitch in heat, and he has no shame about it.

A booming laugh leaves Hircine. “So eager, pup,” he says rubbing the tip against his hole again. Alewyn moaned in response praying his lord would enter him. His body is begging for the feeling of him inside him, taking him, using him, and claiming him. And his prayer is answered as the tip of Hircine’s cock enters him until he gets to the ring of muscle. There’s little resistance from his body as he fills him completely. A loud choked noise comes from his throat and bounces around the forest, he feels wonderfully full.

The Deadric Prince sits still until Alewyn has properly adjusted before snapping his hips once. Alewyn has to bite his arm from moaning too loudly. A tsking sound sounds above him. “Let me hear you, hunter. Let everyone hear you cry out for me. Prey caught in my trap.” The next thrust was more punishing and designed to have forced a louder moan from his chest. It does, and he hears Hircine’s purr of approval.

The clearing echoes with the sound of wet fur on skin, and the sound of Hircine’s balls slapping against his. His moans follow the echos, and the obscene sounds together arouse him just as they embarrass him. Logically, he shouldn’t be on his knees for a Deadric Prince in werewolf form, and yet he’s loving every minute of it. His cock twitches at his mix of arousal and shame.

Hircine’s pace is steady and rough, and it’s everything Alewyn could have wished for. Pressing his head into the dirt, he longs to stroke himself to the thrusts Hircine gives him. However, he feels as if he’s pushed his boundaries too far already, even though Hircine has been nothing but kind to him during the entire hunt and mounting. A moan rips from far deeper in his chest when Hircine aims just right.

“Enjoying yourself, little hunter?” he purred hitting that spot again producing the same noise from Alewyn. With a weak nod, Alewyn exhales sharply as Hircine’s cock suddenly leaves him, and his hole clenches against nothing. He nearly pleads for Hircine to enter him again as an empty feeling settles over him. The feeling of his lord using him completely he craves more than he thought he would.

The two claws that have been settled against his hips slam into the ground next to his face. Breath tingles across his cheek as Hircine leans forward. “I can smell the question on your lips, little hunter,” he growled lightly nipping at his neck. “Ask, little hunter.”

“I wi-wish to play wi-with myself, my lo-lord,” he groans out. “As you mount me.” Hircine’s chest rumbles with a dark chuckle as he pulls back. His clawed hands land on his side again, and Alewyn shivers again at the sensation. He silently prays his lord will indulge him.

“Go ahead, little hunter,” he says sliding back into him. “But, you may only tease yourself for the time being.”

“Yes, my lo-lord. Thank you.”

He settles with a loose grip to tease himself fully using the precum leaking out of him while Hircine ruts into him. Groans spill freely from his mouth with each thrust. Pleasure hums under his skin followed by the tightly bound need to come. But his lord has given him a command that’ll he obey as he doesn’t wish to disappoint him. If anything, he aches to please the Daedra on top of him as best as he can.

A deep guttural sound rumbles above him, and Hircine suddenly takes Alweyn’s hand away from his cock to push Alewyn into the ground. His body weeps at the loss of his hand but regains the lost arousal as his lord lays flat on top of him. The lord’s arms go under his, and lock around his shoulder blades while his upper legs press into Alewyn’s to keep him still. He’s pinned, and a high pitched needy whine leaves him.

“Good pup,” Hicrine says before slamming harder than before into Alewyn. His eyes roll back at the sensation, and his mind goes blank. All can he think of is the feeling of Hircine’s cock in him, and nothing more. Meaningless words pour from his mouth between begging for the knot. Grunting from Hircine follows his words. And none are spoken at all as Hircine’s thrust speed up signaling his impending release.

One, two, three more thrusts, and Alewyn felt the knot swell inside him as Hircine locks them together. Warm, sticky seed shoots into him, and Alewyn whines wantonly. His whine hitches in pitch when teeth bite down on his neck. Knotted and claimed as his lord said he would, and Alewyn feels as if no one on Nirn could stop him.

But before he can enjoy the feeling more, Hircine flips them around to where his lord is on his back, and Alewyn’s stomach faces the sky. “Come on my knot, little hunter,” he growls deeply into Alewyn’s ear. “Lose yourself on a Prince’s cock. Scream to the Aedra that you belong to me. Scream for me, my prey.”

Gripping his cock, Alewyn moves his hand furiously over his cock aching to cum as his lord commands. It doesn’t take long between the feeling of the knot, and the warm seed still pumping into him. A loud shout leaves him, and his own seed flies upwards before hitting the ground. “I am yours, my lo-lord!” he cried into the air. “I serve no one but you! Not the Ae… not the Gods nor the other Deadra. Just the Lord of the Hunt, Hircine!”

His orgasm shot through him like a bear rushing towards its prey. Spasms overtake his body from the feeling of the knot in him. It feels like forever passes by, but it’s mere seconds before Alewyn finally slumps against his lord. No thoughts pass through his mind other than thoughts of worshiping his lord further if he allows it.

Furred arms wrap around his waist, and he feels Hircine nuzzle his neck. Daringly, he entwines his hands with Hircine’s paws, and a content rumble comes from his lord. He’s pleased with the action, and Alewyn smiles happily albeit exhausted from their coupling.

“It will be sometime before my knots dies down, little hunter,” Hircine said. He could still feel his lord’s seed pumping into him. A lazy drunk-like smile comes across his face.

“I don’t mind it, my lo-lord. If I cou-… if it was possible, I’d stay like this for a wh-while,” Alewyn confessed. “I don’t think I’d be able to return to any other we-werewolves.” There's a content chuckle from under him. The Daedric Prince is pleased with the fruits of his labor.

“Now, my champion, my little hunter, when my knot dies down I shall reward you with my gifts. For now, let us enjoy the moment.”


End file.
